by Cayla Kluver
“It is surely not a big step from friend to husband. I insist you envision Steldor in that capacity.”
“Yes, Father,” I murmured, deciding it was best at this time to go along with his desires.
“Very good!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together, his cheerful mood restored. “Then I shall inform him that you are receptive to his advances.”
Before I had a chance to protest, my father stood and whooshed out the door.
“No,” I whispered, the color draining from my cheeks. “What have I done?”
I caught the smirk forming on London’s lips and sprang to my feet.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” I said indignantly.
“I wasn’t going to,” London insisted, though the smile did not fade from his eyes.
Feeling tense, I sent for Sahdienne to draw a bath for me. My bath chamber met its practical purposes with a washbasin on a stand and a garderobe built into the side wall of the castle. What made it unique, however, was the large tub that was sunk into the tiled floor. Water was supplied to the room by pipes that ran within the walls to one of several wells serving the palace and was heated by virtue of the double-sided fireplace that served both my bedroom and parlor.
While I bathed and continued my preparations for bed, London waited in the parlor. Until Cannan’s recent orders, his assignment as a bodyguard had not required him to be within my quarters while I attended to such personal tasks, and I could imagine his discomfort now. Finally ready to retire, I dismissed Sahdienne and opened my bedroom door a crack to murmur good-night to him.
Slumber eluded me, for I couldn’t stop wondering what the morning would bring. I knew the Cokyrian prisoner would be dragged before the King and the captain once more, and I was even more determined than before to be in attendance. Yet it seemed likely that my father would forbid it.
I had at last begun to doze when something from the previous interrogation came rushing back, and I hastened into the parlor where London was reclining on the sofa. Before I could speak, he was on his feet, causing me to jump in alarm. His practiced eyes scanned the room for an enemy before settling on me.
“And why are you not in bed?” he asked, irritated at having been disturbed for no good reason.
“How did you know?”
He stared at me, baffled. “How did I know what?”
“How did you know she was the High Priestess and that her name was Nantilam?”
“I was mistaken,” he said, his expression clouding over. “It was speculation that I unwisely made known to you. Now, can I get some peace or do you want me to read you a bedtime story?”
I rolled my eyes—London’s sarcasm a clear indication he was not in a talkative mood—and withdrew to my bed to fall into a fitful slumber. I woke while it was still dark and, after much tossing and turning, sat up to get a drink of water. I poured myself a glass from the pitcher on my nightstand and took a sip, knowing I would not get back to sleep unless I was able to walk around and mull things over. But I also knew I would never be able to get past London and that he would not embrace the idea of a late-night stroll.
I decided to chance it. Maybe the Elite Guard had dozed off and would not wake to the sound of quiet footfalls. I slowly opened my bedroom door and tiptoed into the parlor. I was about to go into the corridor, amazed at my luck, when I glanced back to the sofa on which London had been resting. He was not there.
I stepped closer to where he should have been, thinking my vision was distorted by the darkness, but there was no sign of him. “London?”
Only silence filled the room. I opened the door to the corridor and peered down its dimly lit length, but he was not in sight.
Suddenly losing the will to wander, I opted to curl up in bed, worried about where London had gone. Why would he have left me unprotected, against his orders? Had there been some problem that had caused him to run off in the middle of the night? I lay quietly for what felt like hours, at long last falling into a troubled sleep, my dreams haunted by images of the terrible fates that might have befallen my bodyguard.
The following morning, I awoke and went straight to the bath chamber, not wanting to check on London for fear he had not returned. I dressed with Sahdienne’s help, electing to wear my silver-and-diamond tiara so that I would have an air of authority for this second interrogation.
After Sahdienne had curtseyed and left, I walked into the parlor where, to my relief, London was waiting next to the door in his characteristic stance, back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. We surveyed each other for a short while before either of us spoke.
“What?” London smirked. “Did I put my shirt on backward or something?”
“No!” I blurted, realizing I had been staring at him wordlessly for an inordinate length of time. “I was just wondering where you were last night.”
London’s smile disappeared and he shifted his position.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I got up in the dark and you weren’t here.”
“I didn’t go anywhere. I might have stepped into the corridor for a moment, but other than that, I was here all night. Perhaps you were dreaming.”
“Pretty vivid dream, I’d say.” I bit my lower lip in agitation. “Why are you lying to me, London?”
“I’m not lying to you!” he snapped, pushing away from the wall, his eyes flashing. “Are you accusing me of abandoning my charge?”
“No, of course not,” I said, taken aback by his anger.
Abandoning his charge would mean disregarding everything he stood for, all the oaths he had taken as a soldier of Hytanica and a member of the King’s Elite Guard. It would mean forfeiting his career, perhaps even his life.
“I didn’t mean to imply any such thing. I’m sorry if I offended you. I was just…curious.”
“If you still want to witness that interrogation, we’d better be going.” His manner was brusque and his voice still simmered with indignation.
We walked in silence toward the spiral staircase, a sense of shame resounding within my chest at how I had spoken to London, and at how he had reacted, though I knew he would pardon me. As we descended the stairs to the first floor, loud and disgruntled voices drifted to us from down the corridor, and my father, the captain and four Elite Guards came into view.
“How can this be?” My father’s voice was frantic, and he was almost spinning the royal ring upon his finger.
“She must have escaped during the night. When Kade went to retrieve her this morning, she was gone.” Cannan’s response was calm, but worry lines creased his forehead.
“Is there a problem?” London queried, attracting the attention of the others.
My father cut in before Cannan could speak. “Our prisoner broke out sometime during the night and has fled.”
“Has the area been searched? She may still be on the palace grounds.”
“Yes, the search of the palace and of the grounds has turned up nothing,” Cannan replied, seeming rankled by London’s tendency to usurp his authority. “I’ve expanded the search throughout the city and have alerted our border patrols, but so far, we have found no trace of her.”
“How could she have escaped?” I blurted, unable to stop myself, though I knew I was not the one who should be asking questions.
Cannan gave me a stern glance but responded nonetheless.
“That is yet to be determined. According to Kade, her cell was locked, exactly as it should have been, except she wasn’t in it.”
“None of this makes sense!” my father exclaimed, emphasizing his words with gestures so sweeping that the rest of us took a step away from him. “It’s impossible to escape from our dungeon, with or without the surveillance of the guards!”
“I have asked Kade to summon for questioning any guard who was on dungeon duty last night,” Cannan replied. “Unless the Cokyrians really are as clever and cunning as myth suggests, the men should be able to provide some answers.”
�
�Blame the traitor!” one of the Elite Guards who had accompanied the captain and the King cried out.
“Tadark!” Cannan reprimanded the young lieutenant harshly. “Enough!”
“There is a traitor among us, make no mistake,” Tadark defiantly repeated. “The prisoner could not have escaped without help, and only someone who was already in the palace would have been able to gain entry to the dungeon.”
Tadark then dramatically addressed my father. “My only request is that you sleep lightly, Your Highness, and be wary even in the presence of your most trusted guards.”
“Enough!” Cannan thundered, his voice so severe that I momentarily felt sorry for Steldor if he’d ever had to endure the wrath his father expressed in that one word.
“Yes, sir,” Tadark responded, but his sullen tone indicated he believed himself justified in making his point known.
Since there would no longer be an interrogation, I returned to my quarters laden with fresh worries that I desperately wanted someone to alleviate. How could our prisoner have escaped? My father had said it was impossible to break out of the dungeon. Had someone assisted her? But to what end? The more I tried to think things through, the more confused I became and in the end succeeded only in giving myself a dreadful headache.
The next few days were hectic and a little jumbled in my memory. Cannan had again ordered heightened security within the palace, and Kade had doubled the number of guards stationed at every post and on every assignment. Perhaps more disconcerting, my sister and I were forbidden to leave the palace at any time, even to visit the garden.
Cannan must have taken to heart the inopportunely expressed conjectures of his young lieutenant because he ordered that no member of the royal family was to be left alone with a single guard. This meant that I was given a second personal bodyguard, and it was my misfortune that the man who received the assignment was none other than Tadark himself.
Tadark was at least two inches shorter than I, and several inches shorter than London, with well-kept sandy brown hair and brown eyes. He was baby-faced, which gave him an innocent and boyish look, although I knew he had to be in his late twenties. Unlike London, he dressed in the uniform of the Elite Guard, a double-breasted royal-blue doublet, white shirt and black breeches, and was obviously proud to have achieved the position. He wore the sword of the Elite Guard on his right hip, from which placement I surmised he was left-handed.
In many ways, Tadark was the opposite of London. He was superstitious and spoke often and at great length. While London tended to blend into the background, Tadark was constantly at my side, always telling me, “Watch out!” for this and, “Stay away!” from that. London, of course, found Tadark’s methods comical, but I did not. By the end of the week, I was ready to poison the annoying lieutenant. I began to speculate about how he had become a member of the Elite Guard and resolved to ask London at my earliest opportunity.
Morale inside the palace dropped throughout the week, and tempers flared as those who worked for the royal family started to suspect each other of having betrayed us in some way. Only Cannan, Kade, the members of the Elite Guard and the King knew the full details of the investigation. While this was probably necessary to maintain the integrity of the inquiry, it also ensured that tension in the palace remained high.
I was growing increasingly frustrated as London learned more and more about the state of affairs, while I was left in the dark. Although I was a member of the royal family, I had no more ability to gather information than did the palace staff, for princess or not, I was but a woman and had no need to be involved in military matters. This situation did little to allay my anxiety, and I disliked the feeling that I was a prisoner in my own home, especially when, given the possibility of a traitor among us, the danger inside was potentially as great as any that lurked outside the palace walls.
Then one day during the following week, an idea came to me. Steldor, as the captain’s son and a troop commander himself, most likely knew a good deal of information relating to the Cokyrian woman’s escape. It was also true that he loved to hear himself talk. Despite the revulsion I felt at the prospect, it was time for another date with Steldor.
CHAPTER 5
OF STEALTH AND STELDOR
“EXACTLY WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS AGAIN?” London asked for the third time in the last half hour.
We were about to leave my parlor so that I could spend the afternoon with Steldor in the Central Courtyard, but I stopped to face him, exasperated by his refusal to drop the subject.
“With all these new rules, the only way I could obtain my father’s permission to go outside was to play upon his desire that I spend some time with Steldor.”
I wasn’t being entirely forthcoming with London—though the palace seemed to shrink in on me with each passing day, this was not the reason I had arranged another rendezvous with the Captain of the Guard’s son. I wanted to know what was going on, and Steldor was going to be my unwitting source.
“You’re asking me to believe that you’re willing to be alone with Steldor for hours just to get a little fresh air?” London said, one raised eyebrow punctuating his skepticism.
“London, you should be jumping at this opportunity, just as Tadark did. You are free of your duties for once and should be taking advantage of that, not trying to dissuade me from my plans. And remember, this wasn’t my decision. It was the King’s. He has somehow acquired the idea that Steldor is a little put off by you, and thinks it would be best if the two of us spent some time together outside your presence. Besides, Steldor can protect me if the need arises, and there are dozens of guards stationed in the courtyard. So, go into the city! Do…whatever it is you do for entertainment. Be thankful that you finally have a day when you don’t have to worry about me or my schedule.”
Guilt nipped at me for not being honest—I had been the one to tell my father that Steldor was uncomfortable around London—but if my bodyguard were allowed to chaperone me, he would figure out what I was doing and spoil any chance I might have for success.
“I still don’t like it,” London said morosely. In a rare display of affection, he reached out a hand and brushed the backs of his fingers along my jawline. “And I can no more stop worrying about you than I can stop myself from breathing.”
I couldn’t restrain my smile, despite my determination to stay firm.
“I know you don’t like Steldor, or the King’s decision, but you must comply with it.”
“It isn’t just dislike. I don’t trust him. Have you forgotten what he tried last time?”
I put my hands on my hips, my patience put to the test.
“He won’t try anything out in the open in broad daylight, London. He’s not that idiotic. And besides, Madam Matallia has consented to be our chaperone.”
Madam Matallia, plump but nevertheless pinched-faced, was the elderly woman who had been instructing Miranna and me in etiquette for the past twelve years and in household management for the last five. From what I understood, she had also been my mother’s instructor, although the madam now answered to her former student for my sister’s and my behavior at various social functions.
“Madam Matallia? She’ll be asleep under a shade tree within five minutes. And even if she’s not, she adores Steldor. She’ll purposefully look the other way in the hope that he kisses you!”
I again fought a smile, for Madam Matallia’s infatuation with Steldor was precisely the reason I had requested her for a chaperone.
“And what of his amazing scent? How will you ever resist him?” London had moved to lean against the door, as though standing in front of it would make me forget where it was located.
Gnawing on my lower lip, I made one final attempt to mollify my bodyguard. “I know what I’m up against this time, so if he tries to kiss me, I’ll slap him, all right?”
“Well, that would certainly be a new experience for him.”
As we left my quarters, London crossed his arms and sank into a stony silence. In an effort to
dispel the tension, and since Tadark was not with us for once, I decided now was the time to ask about my younger guard.
“London, I’ve been wondering about something. Tadark doesn’t seem to fit the mold of an Elite Guard. Do you know how he came to be one?”
My bodyguard uncrossed his arms and smiled a little, despite his dismal mood, and the discord between us eased.
“Well, that depends,” he said, running a hand through his hair.
“On what?”
“On which version you want to hear.”
“There’s more than one?”
London nodded, his smile broadening into a grin. “Do you want to hear the official version, the one Tadark claims to be true, or an eyewitness account from another guard?”
“Begin with Tadark’s, then tell me the other,” I prompted, sensing I was about to hear an interesting story.
We had reached the spiral staircase, but rather than proceeding down it, London rested his back against the wall.
“Tadark’s placement in the Elite Guard occurred a few years ago and involved your mother. The Queen had been browsing the merchandise in the market, and was about to make a purchase when an imbecilic thief snatched her money pouch from her hands, bumping into her and knocking her to the ground. Her guards ensured she had not suffered injury before pursuing the man, so the cretin was given a head start…and then Tadark showed up on the scene. According to Tadark himself, he saw the thief assault the Queen, then gave chase, catching him, wrestling him to the ground and taking him into custody before the others could lend a hand.”
I almost laughed out loud at the notion of Tadark acting so heroically. “And the other version?”
“The beginning is very much the same,” London said, enjoying the telling of the tale. “It is in the circumstances surrounding Tadark’s arrival that the accounts differ greatly. According to one of the Queen’s own men, he and another guard pursued the thief. They were gaining ground on the man when Tadark, then a City Guard, stepped out from a side street. It would be correct to say that the thief did not see Tadark in time to avoid a collision. The criminal was knocked out, presumably from the impact of his head upon the ground, and the other guards arrested him while Tadark struggled to his feet.
